


It's Not Fair

by larsons



Category: Rent - Larson
Genre: M/M, Sexual Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-03
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-06 06:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16826950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/larsons/pseuds/larsons
Summary: Mark takes in a shaky breath. How is Roger so effortlessly sexy? He’s not even doing anything.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> not sure where i'm going with this but it's been sitting in my drafts for a very long time so i might as well post what i've got ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ suggestions on how to continue this are very....V e r y welcome

It’s sweltering hot. Roger’s taken this as an excuse to walk around the loft shirtless all day. Mark’s got his back pressed up against a cool wall. He watches as Roger takes a seat on the couch and stretches out. Mark swallows.

“How are you still wearing that?” Roger asks.

Mark’s wearing a thin long sleeve top. It’s because he’s self-conscious. He hates his pale bony arms. Besides, it’s not like he’s suffocating inside it. Roger’s always suffocatingly hot, especially without a shirt. Which is not fair.

“It’s not that hot,” Mark says, immediately regretting it as it comes out of his mouth. He knows he looks a mess, and he knows that once he peels himself off the wall it’ll leave a disgusting sweat stain.

“Not that hot? Mark, you look extremely hot right now.”

Mark pointedly looks away.

“You should take it off.”

Why does the world hate him? Having to witness Roger being half-naked all day, and now Roger’s asking him to take off his shirt? Fuck. Not fair.

“I’m good.”

“You will be when that bitch of a shirt is off.”

Mark looks at him then.

“My shirt is a bitch?”

Roger closes his eyes and exhales as he leans his head back, exposing his neck.

“You’re a bitch.”

God fucking damn it, Roger Davis, you’re the bitch. Mark rakes his eyes over Roger's hot skin. He tries not to think about pressing his lips on that neck, tries not to think about dragging his tongue over that throat. He swallows.

“Mature.”

Roger shrugs. “Whatever. Not my fault when you get heat stroke.”

Mark takes in a shaky breath. How is Roger so effortlessly sexy? He’s not even doing anything. This is so unfair, and God fucking knows it. The way Roger is staring at him now indicates that he knows it too. That little fucker.

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop staring at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Roger.”

“That’s my name.”

Mark sighs. He gives up. Roger can stare at him all he wants. Wait, no. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Mark knows he looks awful right now. This is the last thing he wants. Maybe if he goes to take a shower- but if he moves he would leave a big stain on the wall- fuck. What if-?

“Stop thinking so much.”

“What- how would you know if I’m thinking or not? What’s so bad about thinking anyway?”

“There’s nothing’s wrong with thinking. Just makes you look ugly with your face scrunching like that.”

“My face is not scrunching like anything.”

“Well, you should at least separate the fight your eyebrows are having.”

Mark deadpans at him. “Poetic.”

Roger flashes him a fake sweet smile, then drops it immediately.

“Go take a shower.”

God, does he smell? Why is Roger telling him to take a shower? As if he's not self-conscious enough already.

"Can you stop thinking so much?" Roger makes a face at him. It looks like he's trying to imitate Mark's thinking face, badly. Mark rolls his eyes. "Nerd. You look hot and uncomfortable. Go shower."

He wants to say something, but doesn’t know what. Instead, he settles for, “Bossy.”

Roger chuckles and smirks at him. “Just go, you idiot.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He shouldn’t be thinking about Roger like this.

It’s better here in the shower than it was out there in the stifling heat of the loft. Mark is already clean, now just letting the cool water flow down his body and thinking. Thinking about Roger. Imagining Roger under the cool spray with him, imagining Roger’s chest pressed up against his back. Mark runs his fingers lightly over the side of his neck as he pictures Roger placing his lips there, sucking his skin. He skates his fingers down his chest, heart pounding, imagining that they’re Roger’s fingers gliding over his soft stomach and slipping down-

Mark jumps at the sudden knocking on the bathroom door. He sighs and quickly shuts off the water, just in time to hear Roger’s voice from behind the door say, “Stop jerking off. I need to use the bathroom too, you know.” Mark doesn’t respond. He knows Roger will just make fun of him if he tries to defend himself (“Shut up, Mark, you know nothing you say ever comes across as believable”). He’s breathing hard. He steps out of the shower and quickly dries himself. Roger bangs on the door again.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he says under his breath. “Can you be patient?” he says to the door, struggling to get his pants on quickly.

“No. Hurry up, I need a shot.”

Once he finally pulls his pants up, he flings the door open. “Don’t joke about that.”

“Who said anything about joking?”

“Roger.”

Roger grins and punches Mark’s arm with fondness as he moves past him. “Just kidding. I'm just gonna shower. Don’t miss me too much.” And with that, Roger shuts the door behind him.

* * *

Mark slumps against the couch. Roger's guitar is leaning on the side of the couch. He can still hear the shower going. Mark leans over and pulls a finger over the strings high on the fingerboard. The metallic chord rings out quietly into the loft. Roger wouldn't mind. What's taking him so long anyway? Maybe he’s thinking about Mark. The same way Mark was thinking about him. Maybe he’s in there touching himself while thinking about Mark. Mark licks his lips and teases himself through his pants. He hears the water shut off and stops. Mark sighs and gets up from his seat to get a glass of water. Maybe if he hydrates, his head will be clear of horny thoughts, and he won’t be such a pervert. He shouldn’t be thinking about Roger like this. He feels disgusted at himself for still wanting to get off.

 _Just drink the damn water_ , he thinks to himself, and raises his glass to his lips.

Roger enters, shirtless and with a towel around his waist. Mark inhales his water and starts coughing aggressively.

“Choking on water? Only you would, my friend,” Roger comments.

Mark puts down his glass as gently as he can. “Shut up,” he strains, once he can breathe again.

Roger grins. “Not exactly very authoritative when you sound like you’ve been strangled.”

Mark clears his throat, glaring at Roger. “I’ll fucking strangle you in a minute.”

Roger throws his hands up and fakes a frightened expression. “Oh, no. Anything but that! Whatever will I do?” He drops his expression once he realises Mark isn’t going to play along. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.”

Roger eyes him carefully. “Something definitely is.”

Mark subconsciously drops a hand down. Roger doesn’t miss the movement. Mark looks away.

“You need to put some clothes on. You…” Mark catches himself. Was that inappropriate? He looks back at Roger to see if he's noticed anything. _You_ what? _You look so fucking good I can barely think straight around you. You look like a Greek god that just stepped out of the Fountain of Youth. You look like you could pick me up and throw me against a wall. You- “_ You might catch a cold.” _What? Seriously?_

“In this heat? C’mon.”

 _Fuck._ Mark’s heart is pounding against his chest. “I’m just saying…”

“Lay off it, Mark. You’re not my mother,” Roger says playfully.

“You know what? I think I’m just gonna shut myself in my room and pretend I don’t exist. That okay with you?”

Roger laughs. That makes Mark feel things.

“Knock yourself out,” Roger says, and picks up his guitar and takes a seat on the couch.

Mark nods, picks up his glass and makes his way to his room.


End file.
